


The Bonding (NE-a ParasiteXReader)

by TheTentacleCommander



Series: The Devil's Saga series extras [8]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bad Ending, Bargaining, Body Horror, Character Death, Corruption, Fridge Horror, Gen, Horror, Human Experimentation, Human/Parasite Relationships, Infected Characters, Laboratories, Mad Science, Mad Scientists, Mental Anguish, Mind Rape, Morally Ambiguous Character, Origin Story, Original Character Death(s), Parasites, Prison, Psychological Torture, Raccoon City, Reader-Insert, Sarcasm, Side Story, Tentacles, Torture, Umbrella Corporation, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 12:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTentacleCommander/pseuds/TheTentacleCommander
Summary: This was an early test to find what kinds of test subjects take best to the NE-a parasite. You are a convict recruited from Umbrella's secret dealings with the prison system. You signed that paper wanting to avoid death – and now wished you had taken the easier way out.(AN: a semi-parody of those reader fics; character's gender is left ambiguous)





	The Bonding (NE-a ParasiteXReader)

It had been a while; in specific it had been 5 years and 6 months since you were told by the lovely court system that Douglas Prison was to become your new home. Something was written on those forms with that guilty verdict; it didn't matter as you knew you were innocent then and are now. Fuck them, you knew the truth and that's all that mattered. You could count on your (h/l) (h/c) hair to be more manageable than the courts. The court-appointed lawyer had done the bare minimum (i.e. had shown up to court) but did nothing to contest your case. You tried to appeal whenever the opportunity came up, but in truth, you knew the powers that be wanted you in here so your hopes of getting out of this hell hole slowly disintegrated day by day.   
  
And then one day, fate dangled you a bone. You were bored, sitting on that stiff, rickety prison cot to see a flier slide through the bars of the cell you and some meth head shared. You didn't try to learn the names of the people you 'lived' with in here. Keep your nose clean, keep to yourself, fight when you had to and folks you've learned tended to leave you be. Usually. Your 'roommate' was a new arrival and was clearly trying to learn how to function without their poison of choice. They'll either learn or this place will beat it into them. Not your problem though. They picked up the left behind flyer before aimlessly tossing it aside. Out of mild interest, you walked over to pick it up.  
  
The bold yet simple pattern of the familiar two-tone logo faded into the background of the crumpled paper popped out to you before the text did:  
  
_The Clinical Research Center at Raccoon General Hospital is conducting a clinical research trial of an investigational health supplement and is looking for subjects 18 to 35 years old._  
  
To participate in this study, you must:  
\- be in good general health  
\- be willing to volunteer for any tests concerning this supplement  
\- be able to demonstrate the ability to understand and comply with basic directions  
\- be compliant with clinic protocol   
  
For more information speak to your nearest authority and mention your interest. In exchange for your time, any and all criminal records will be expunged, and early to complete pardon may be rewarded. Acceptance of this ad acts as implied consent to any and all research study. This advertisement has been approved by UMB Co. TVM# ESC06719553   
  
You internally smirk;  _these guys are all behind those beauty ads, huh. Betcha be testing stupid shit like facial cream or some shit._  
  
You would have simply tossed the ad away or tried to barter it to some lazy stoner for cheap rolling paper in exchange for some cigs when you noticed that the wording mentioned that 'In exchange for your time, any and all criminal records will be expunged, and early to complete pardon may be rewarded.' See, you aren't so sure about all this legalese is, or why some of the wording seemed weird;  but the word 'pardon' was all you saw. You just want out of this hell box. You want to taste (flavor) ice cream again. You want to know what having a legit job was like. Working A/C. Interaction with humans and not animals. You wanted out on your own and not at the end of the needle the state wants badly to stick in you nor a body bag.  _This was the way out of this mess_ , you told yourself.  
  
And so you scribbled on that paper your name, then caught the attention of one of the good old guard dogs who aren't paid enough to watch the prison population but seem to enjoy lording over everyone hovering by your cell. The guard made this cold sneer at you as you slipped them the form through the worn bars. You weren't sure what amused the underpaid security guard reject but it didn't matter as you had put your fate in the biggest company this side of Jesus' hands.   
  
Besides, who could question a place whose motto was  _'Our business is life itself'_?  
  
…....................................................  
  
Days then weeks pass. Your cellmate got themselves sent to solitary; something about trying to cut their own arms open. See, in here getting beat up by your fellow inmates or the guards was okay. But doing the work towards yourself or causing too much fuss just had one result – you becoming well acquainted with solitary. The rules of prison never were logical, they just were. As you sat in your lone cell enjoying the privacy while it lasted, two well-dressed guys in what looked to be the sleekest uniforms you have ever seen approached the bars that separated them from you.  
  
You look around, puzzled as none of those pissy security guards with a schoolyard bully complex were around. Just these two quiet guys. You then notice the small, crisp looking stitching of the red and white logo in the shape of an umbrella on their arm sleeves. They sported well-manicured crew cuts, shades covering their eyes. A part of you wanted to hang back to the corner of the cell and plot how to dodge past them. Years in this place...it made you a tad feral. But you reminded yourself that these guys are your best friends as of right now. You just have to do whatever stupid tests these guys want and you'll be out of here. Despite your mental urge to flee, you sit passively on your cot.  
  
The bars slide open as the two uniformed guys walk inside. You passively show them your arms; the cold feel of cuffs was felt along them before you were forcibly raised upwards. The two then lead you out of your cell; the catcalls and yelling began as you strolled out with them. You ignore your fellow inmates' yells and glares. They are still here; when all this is done, you won't be.  
  
….....................  
  
You step out of the van stretching. You had no idea how long that trip was, but your body made its displeasure known as you audibly pop out the kinks all over your body. Your eyes take a while to adjust as the van's tinted windows blocked out near all sunlight aside from the driver's side and front windows. You glance around the area and realize that you weren't blinded by the sun but by the bright halogen fused glare of lab grade lighting. The walls were all stark white and reflected everything brightly back to you. You and your two escorts were in it seemed a large gymnasium-sized vehicle bay.  
  
You look all around and notice the lack of any way out aside from the one lone doorway ahead of them. You ponder how the van got in; you swore you made out a thin outline in the floor beneath it. Before you could look closer, you were sharply pushed forward towards the lone entrance. You repress the instinctual urge to shove back only for a sharp voice to catch your attention. You turn to see a secretary - at least you thought it was as the woman, looking at least middle age with grey streaks along the sides of her hair put up in a bun, her business length skirt and matching suit top in a deep burgundy that popped against her tan skin – speak to you matter of factly:  
  
“Hello, (f/n, l/n) I take it? Please remove all valuables and proceed to the next room.”  
  
Already? No move to new housing, no other people? It felt strange that you were to do this right here. You look at your two escorts; they haven't even made move but that very inaction worries you. You can't tell if they were annoyed or anything due to their near unreadable faces covered by black shades. But you were only one person and the thought of that ad came to mind;  _if I disobeyed, would they send me back to that hell hole?_  
  
The mere thought of that place has you quickly strip despite feeling exposed as this felt wrong somehow. At least when you stripped in prison it made sense: in case you were carrying contraband, for showers, for health checkups, for barter...but this situation seemed wrong and you couldn't place why. You push down your unease as you begin to gather up your orange prison jumper-  
  
“Please remove all valuables and proceed to the next room,” the woman coolly repeats.  _What lady, you can't expect me to leave my shit here?_  She keeps on staring at you making your skin crawl; you drop the jumper partly out of wanting to not fuck this situation up but also for the fact that she just creeps you out. You fully nude begin to walk past your now discarded pile of clothes, noting the small door in front of you sliding open more as if it was apart of the wall.  
  
As you pass, the woman remarks loudly: “Subject (f/n, l/n) is (weight) pounds, (height) tall, (e/c) eyed, and (sex). Subject has been due to prior environment been kept in optimal physical shape.” She sounded as if she was dictating to a tape recorder. She sounded so cold. Like you are not even here. You pass through the door seeing a near immaculately clean and near empty room, save for the lone metal chair that stuck out from the sea of pristine white like a sore thumb. It reminds you of a dentist’s chair but worse; it was covered in what looked to be old stains, some red, some in some weird purple color. It had sections where you would assume your feet, arms and head would be with thick straps meant to restrain at each point and in the middle torso area.  
  
The woman continued on from the other room: “Subject has consented to this procedure beforehand; as of now they are the property of  _U_ mbrella Corp. and will be henceforth referred to as Test Subject Nealpha30.”   
  
_Hey, hey woah, woah what?_  They was no mention of becoming property! Just a bit of using your body! You was no one's property, bitch or thing and just wanted out of prison. You began to move around agitatedly before noticing to your horror that the barely there door was sliding closed. You start to bolt towards it out of a cold panic only for one of your escorts to roughly grip you by the arms. They pull you towards themselves with what it seemed little to no effort. You were hardened by prison sure, but these guys were definitely harder than you, making it so you had no chance against one much less the both of them.  
  
“Test Subject NEalpha30 is being belligerent; place in test chair immediately.” A new voice through possibly hidden speakers in the room greeted your hearing and the sounds of your grunts of struggle; it was reedy sounding with the scratchy gruff of an older man. But that voice had managed to trump the past woman's in pure detached coldness. “The fuck?! Get your hands off of me! I'm a human, not some dog!” you yell out, you deciding to make your discomfort known,  _fuck that ad's rules!_  You lash out against the one pulling you against their chest; they roughly grab your (h/c) hair hard from the root forcing you to lessen your struggles.  
  
That chair creeps you out fully now, but you have no choice as you are bodily shoved into it. You are shivering from its touch even though a thin sheen of sweat was already covering you from your frayed nerves and your struggles. You feel the heavy straps pulled roughly against your legs, arms, neck, forehead, and chest effectively strapping you to the chair. You don't see yourself as a massive threat; why all these binds?    
  
After that worrying thought, you ponder that it's odd that they didn't let you keep your clothes; you clearly are trying to think of something else to keep yourself from freaking out. As you try to keep from hyperventilating, you see the two guards after strapping you in quickly leave out of the room. As they left and the strange door slid fully closed behind them, you look up to notice a viewing window above you. You start to shout:  
  
“Hey! Yeah you, you dumb fucks!? What's going on, let me out! I came here for a test not to be strapped in this weird ass chair! There was no mention of this! Get me out dammit!” You were screaming yourself hoarse; the guys didn't even try to reassure you that this was a test or to even tell you to shut the hell up. The silence of everyone made everything worse.  
  
But then you see  _it_. Something you failed to notice as you flailed heavily restrained in the chair; a long mechanical arm was slowly being lowered down from a higher point in the room. It hovered over you, then neared closer and closer, the glint of a long sharp needle nearing your person.  
  
That syringe. They are going to kill you off after all. This is a cruel joke. The prison was going to execute you after all and they hate you so much that they'd play this fucked up joke on you. You squirm in that chair, but oddly you only see the lab types up in the viewing window; aside from them, there was no guards, no warden, no off the street gawkers to watch you die.   
  
As you look up, you see this tall reedy guy staring at you intently, his disdain for you clear on his face as if looking at you personally offended him.  _Whatever you fuck, I've had worse in lock up. I want out!_  You didn't like him either. His eyes though, they were this shade of green that glinted like emerald diamonds in the bright artificial lighting of the room even past the glass. But his glare with them - this cold disinterest that read from them – made your skin crawl.   
  
You've fought crazy fucks rolling at you with shanks, taken your share of beatings in the showers, but this man and you in this chair made you want to run like a bat out of hell. You can see him pushing on what was probably a control panel, maneuvering the metal thing with the questionable needle near you. That syringe was right at your neck now. It was weird; the thin glass tubule was filled with this sick looking purple liquid. You can see your very scared (e/c) eyes reflected in them.  
  
He presses down another control with this almost amused smile trailing along his haggard yet creepy face, that lab coat bastard commanding the metal arm to place the point of that syringe right by your jugular vein. “Subject is ready for insertion; start timers,” that old reedy voice emotionlessly drawled on.   
  
Your eyes water in panic as your neck tries to instinctively move as much as it could away from the thin, sharp needle despite your binds making movement a near impossibility for you.  
  
_Insertion? What...what was in that thing I see nothin-!!?_  
  
As you fearfully try to eye the odd vial to see what else could be in it, the thing suddenly was sharply jabbed into your skin. Your insides suddenly felt like ice as this distressing feeling floods you with each drop of that shit that was pushed inside of your more than complying veins.  
  
And then...nothing.   
  
No burning, no grogginess...was this a sick joke? Whoever screwed you over to get you locked up in the first place is doing this to make you suffer more.  _Fuck you guys! I've already lost 5 years of my life, you destroyed everything I had on the outside what else do you want from me!? Why are you doing this to me!!?_  
  
You then wonder,  _why did they do this with a mechanical arm. Why are they all up there and me down here?_  
  
“Subject is suitably agitated; allowance for NE-a to circulate into subject's system is increased.”  
  
You began to panic more; you knew now that the sicks fucks want you to freak out. You want to calm down out of spite but hearing talk of things circulating in you did not help you feel any calmer. You felt sweaty with exertion the adrenalin in your system working overtime. You looked around the room to expect these sick jokers to laugh at the fool in the chair; laugh at your suffering – when you felt an itch along your neck.  
  
It was that shitty kind of itch too, the kind that is like in a weird place on your back or in the back of the arms; the kind that's a bitch to reach but it was now made worse by the fact that you were restrained. You couldn't even so much as breathe on your arms or even itch your nose to relieve it some, that was how tightly you were strapped in. It was a stupid but evil kind of torture; it didn't hurt but fuck you wanted nothing more than to scratch where the needle injected into you. You wanted to scratch the holy hell out of that spot.  
  
Supposedly, if you didn't scratch at something, the sensation would go away. But it seemed your body didn't get that memo as the sensation felt like the worst kind of agitation as it spread further along your neck. No...'spread' wasn't the right word. It seemed to move, like a trail of water the itch moving along your neck and 'dripping' down to your shoulder. You had been at this point thrashing, still wanting and hoping that you could be allowed out of this chair. You noticed this strange 'fullness' in your gut; it was a sensation that followed with the drippy itch that was running along your side now. It was strange as if you had just pigged out. You knew that couldn't be as no one in their right mind would pig out on that shit prison food.  
  
The itch; it has washed over your body like a typhoon now. Near all of your left side feels like a giant, burning itch. You look to your left arm; the itch had trailed upward too. Your arms like your legs were outstretched and restrained by these cold as ice metal cuffs. You then noticed out of the corner of your eye a strange reflection of purple from that cuff. You didn't recall yourself wearing anything purple.   
  
You realized that instant how heavy your breathing had gotten in the meanwhile. You were starting to hyperventilate. Something was wrong and you couldn't place why.  
  
Your (e/c) eyes then widen in horror as that purple reflection shifted around that metal cuff for it to dawn on you that it was only reflecting your restrained and clammy skin. Like a bad tattoo nightmare, you see swirls of purple rise, no writhe under your skin, the movement of each swirl resembling a long, sinewy worm. The purple near blackish color was trailing as far as your fingertips; you nervously grip your left hand into a fist and swore you could feel movement bunching under the quick of your fingernails.  
  
You went to open your mouth and found yourself winded from exertion. You helplessly look up at the doc with the green eyes just calmly writing things down from his place behind the testing glass, your distress not even registering to him. Harshly, your neck snaps upward the motion not initiated by you, but your body does it all the same. The itching had become this unbearable sensation of things crawling, writhing, burrowing inside you, like maggots festering in a corpse.  
  
_B-but these maggots were under my skin._  
  
_Oh God, what ...what did they put in me!_  
  
It was like feeling overstuffed from the inside. You are fully shaking against your bonds but have enough willpower to hesitantly look back to your left arm; that arm had grown monstrously swollen as if an internal injury had happened, or as if something had painfully infected it.  
  
Despite your previous anger, your fear had fully overtaken you as you then screamed, the sensation of feeling your insides being filled and moved around in terrifying you to your core. But the moving did not stop. The pure horrifying sensation of moving was in a sick way now being overtaken by the more familiar and less alien one of pain. Complete and utter agony filled you as whatever was in you was doing something to you with you unable to stop it.  
  
The pain was unbearable, you were unable to even scream out coherent sentences now as you were too busy slamming your head into the metal chair. Nothing but the slamming of your head and the animal-like screeching that had you not been overtaken with agony you would have denied that they even came from you echoed off the room's walls. You just wanted it to stop, this hell to stop-  
  
_~..............~_  
  
A voice, soft yet emotionless, almost robotic muttered incoherently in your head, the sound no more than buzzing. You strain in your agony to hear it if only to have something else to focus on other than the pain and your futile screaming as you felt yourself grow fuller and fuller.  
  
_~We...here...now.~_  
  
_Huh?_  
  
_~We...here now.~_  
  
_We?_  This is it, you have lost it. You hurt so bad that you are hearing things. You had always wondered what could cause people to get to such a point and now here you are, reaching it-  
  
_~No more talking. We need to sleep.~_  The voice spoke again, almost as if it was chastising you for thinking.  
  
_Who...who what?_  
  
_~We.~_  
  
_Who is this 'we'!_  you demand, wanting to at least humor your clearly broken mind; you wanted to know who you were speaking to. At the very least you deserved to know who your mental torturer was!  
  
_~We. Are.~_  
  
The fuck, get out of my head! The simple answer despite everything enrages you. You were tired of no one telling you anything!  
  
_~Thoughts are loud, too loud. Sleep now.~_  
  
_No! You are the one 'too loud'!_ Fuckin' _tell me who you are!_  The voice had not replied that time; despite your agitation, you almost begged for its return. Without it, you began to notice the blood pouring through your nose and cascading down your lips. You faintly swore you felt movement along the inside of your gums. You could only whimper; your chest feels too tight and you could swear that your ribs are trying to point inwards. You can now without the voice's distraction feel the strangeness inside you intensifying... _are my insides moving?_  
  
It's becoming hard to know what is going on now through the pain and delirium.  
  
_No...no no_  
  
_no_  
  
_the things, the worms! Worms in, in the nails_  
  
_in my toes_  
  
_in MY EYES!!_  
  
Somewhere you vaguely hear “10 minutes have passed” stated, but at this point words and sounds and your breathing were mixed together into a mix of jumbled sounds. None of them helped to stave off the numerous rampant and terrified thoughts now rolling in your head. You had long dug your fingernails and even toenails into the unforgiving metal; the restraints did their job well as you still could not leave the metal contraption, your sweat, and blood from the gash in the back of your head now coating it.  
  
Your vision is blurring.  You aren't sure if it was from you openly crying or the things, the WORMS GET THEM OUT PLEASE OUT!!  
  
_~We will soon.~_  
  
That voice spoke again; it was still cold but the simple three-word phrase had you stop in your mad mental raging to almost plead with them. You wondered; maybe the voice was a researcher? A lab coat testing your pain tolerance? Maybe if you begged enough, they will stop for the day? You didn't care who the voice belonged to now, you just wanted it all to stop.  
  
_Can...can you make it stop?_  You tentatively ask.  
  
_~We will take care of.~_  
  
_~Rest.~_  
  
You weren't sure what they meant by 'take care of', but resting after all you've been though sounded so, soo good. They can make this shit stop, you can get cleaned up, and then you could rest right? This was just a scary test, you are in good hands, right?  
  
_~Quiet. We will rest.~_  
  
_Can you make this stop?_  
  
_~We can only make rest. Calm and rest as we are one.~_  
  
_But...Will I be okay?_  
  
The voice said nothing then; your mind was a scramble, at once hoping they were speaking to a lab tech but also hoping that this voice that may be in your head is able to make this all go away.  
  
_Will you?_  You fearfully ask. The silence is defining. The tightness throughout your body is unbearable. The worms are everywhere. You feel like a bloated corpse on the too cold metal chair.  
  
You begged in mental delirium for (friend/partner's name), wishing for them to come help you; you begged wanting to see your (sister/brother) again. You wished that you told your (father/mother/parents) you were sorry you got locked up. As your (e/c) eyes dimmed, you heard the old lab guy go, “Human test subject phase of Nemesis Project is a failure. Will revert to the more costly T-103 units for more test passes with the parasite.” Those words they meant something but your body felt heavy as lead. You feel lethargic now. Just tired.  
  
_~We need to calm now.~_  
  
_~Then we will. Rest.~_  
  
The pain is so far, far away. _We like that._  
  
Somewhere, the sound of flesh tearing open filled the room, the poor overtaxed body failing to contain what was inside it. The smell of copper and the dripping of wetness hitting the floor filled the room. But that was so far away now. All that past babble made little to no sense as we finally listened to the voice and began to succumb.  
  
_~We will sleep now.~ Yes, yes we will._  
  
“...Discharge this after salvaging the parasite.”  
  
_…..we are..._  
  
Our eyes closed and rest came.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on dA in 2015


End file.
